


Barbarian relative

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Elf Culture & Customs, F/M, Female Character of Color, Inspired By Tumblr, Married Couple, Middle Earth, Moria | Khazad-dûm, Older Man/Younger Woman, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: There is always a unexpected culture shock or difference that is bound to show when you are married to someone of a different race





	Barbarian relative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mainecoon76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainecoon76/gifts).



> Sometimes inspiration comes from the most unexpected things, and this was from a tumblr post I just had to try

“Your grandfather is a  _ barbarian, _ ” Narvi finally said after a look silence after that he had finished the tale of how the Noldor had ended up in Exile from Valinor, where they laid together in bed after a series of most pleasant love-making in his view. 

 

“Pardon?”

 

Celebrimbor did, honestly, not know what else to response to what she just had said. He was used to hear Fëanor be called a madman, people only recalling the bad reputation of his last months alive and how swearing the Oath had doomed his family, when he once had been the genius golden prince of the Noldor whose greatest treasure was his family. 

 

His Dwarrowdam wife raised a eyebrow, possibly realizing that this might be yet another one of those culture crashes they faced, all because they were of two completely different races. Then she threw up her hands in desperation to form a pose he knew to be part of praying to Aulë.  

 

“For the strength of our Maker, dearest silver-handed husband, have you not checked the cultural values of my kin at all during all this time we have been married!?  We, the Stone Children of the Maker, have a completely understanding for the kinslayings at Doriath and Sirion, even nowadays when it is little more than a tale passed down from our ancestors who lived at that time.  _ Someone steals your greatest treasure, the sacred work of your hands? You take it back. Simple as that.  _ But the events at Alqualondë, and especially what happened later at Losgar. Those people attacked others to steal their treasure, and then destroyed that same treasure?  **_Barbarians!_ ** That is what I meant by my comment about your grandfather just now! I do not doubt for a moment that he might have been blessed with the creative mind worthy of a Dwarf that is a Master Craftsman in whatever profession that is chosen, but he crossed a rock-hard line at stealing and then burning those swan ships that was the masterwork of others!” 

 

When she put it that way, Celebrimbor understood a little better why she had looked not so little shocked, and a hinted anger in her green eyes, from earlier.

 

“I apologize for being the grandson of a such brute, then,” he muttered in a low voice, his head bowed. 

 

“Oh, come over here, you overgrown beardless silver daydreamer!” 

 

The fiery kiss were enough to stun Celebrimbor temporarily, and Narvi used her body weight to push him back down on the bed, the small candle at the bed table highlighting the difference in skin and hair colour between them. Celebrimbor could never get enough of the contrast between Narvi's dark skin tone and the pale blonde of her long hair and beard, deepening the stunning green of her eyes. Bewitching, he first had thought, in a manner not even  Fëanor had managed to create. No, when it came to his wife Aulë had won over his grandfather in terms of beauty. 

 

“Now you are daydreaming again, honey.” 

 

“Because you are so bewitching beautiful that I forget both sense and wit in favor for you, dearest Narvi.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> for those who have not read my other stories with this couple, my version of Narvi is a Dwarrowdam born in the Orocarni mountains in the far East of Middle-Earth and moved to Khazad-dûm after coming of age. The ongoing story of their norm-breaking courtship and marriage can be found in my other story An Open Door


End file.
